


Thoughtful

by WintersCaptain



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Favors, Fluff, Hotch doesnt take care of himself and its sweet, Request Fill, Will I ever write anything where I dont get to call Hotch "Aaron" at least once? Nah man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24171157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersCaptain/pseuds/WintersCaptain
Summary: It's the little things Hotch misses when his temper gets the better of him.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 197





	Thoughtful

**Author's Note:**

> Request: hi!!! Could you do a Hotch x reader where they are close and she calls him Agent Hotchstuff and brings him food/drinks cuz he always forgets to eat. One day he snaps at her cuz he’s tired and she stops doing those things for him and he’s sad about that. Later on apologizes and confesses (very fluffy) thanks!!!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

You step through Hotch’s doorway, finding him behind his desk on the phone. A fresh mug of coffee rests between your hands, prepared just the way he likes it – black, with one sugar. He hasn’t stopped working since he stepped out of the elevator this morning. While unruffled, you know he stretches himself too far – often forgetting to eat and take regular breaks.

You quietly place the mug on his desk handle on his left-hand side. He looks up, grateful. He mouths his thanks and returns to his note-taking.

When you retreat to the door, you watch him for a moment. He drops his pen and takes an absent-minded sip of his coffee as if it had been there the whole time. Satisfied, you track back to the bullpen and get back to work on your current consult.

+++

It’s the third day in the field. Hotch studies the map with his hand over his mouth, frowning. The rest of the team was working elsewhere, leaving the two of you to search for things yet unseen.

“Hey, Hotchstuff.” You catch him huff a laugh at your newest attempt to find a new nickname. It was a work in progress. “See anything new?”

He spares you a glance and a nearly-imperceptible smile. “No, nothing new. JJ is following up with the families today. The fourth victim’s father knows more than he’s letting on.”

You hum in agreement and pull a granola bar out of your back pocket. You’d tucked it there just before walking in. Reaching forward, you bring it into his eye-line, careful not to startle him out of his focus. He stares at it for a moment before taking it from you. 

“I haven’t seen you eat anything since this morning,” you say, quietly. You pass him, and stick a post-it flag next to the fourth victim, marking a possible lead.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

He unwraps the granola bar and takes a bite. You smile to yourself.

+++

“Jack!”

You kneel and open your arms. The boy runs to you, leaping into your arms. You spin him in a circle, and he hangs off your hip as you pepper his head with kisses. His Aunt Jessica waves to Hotch, standing on the bridge outside his office.

“What are you doing here today?” He tucks his head neatly under your chin, and you pull him close to your chest, one arm under him and the other across his back with your hand on his head.

As you chat with him on your walk back to your desk, you miss the way Aaron leans on the railing with a soft smile on his face. He had come back from an early afternoon meeting to find a muffin and cup of coffee on his desk. He didn’t need a note to know who left it for him. You take care of him more than he thinks he deserves.

Watching you with his son ignites something in him. He flushes and pushes the feeling away. He shoves off the railing and grabs his bag from the office.

“Jack, let's go,” he calls, stepping down the stairs with purpose.

The boy pouts from his place on your lap, doodling in your notebook. “Cmon dad! Just a little longer.”

“Nope. We gotta go, buddy. I promised your Aunt Jessica dinner when she’s done with her appointment.” Hotch won’t look at you, and a flash of disappointment strikes through your chest.

_No. He’s not yours. Quit while you’re ahead._

Shaking off the feeling, you pull Jack close to you and lean close to his ear. “Better listen to him, love. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He grins up at you and leaps off your lap, taking his father’s hand and leaving the office.

_Huh._

+++

Hotch hadn’t been able to shake that feeling in his chest since seeing you with Jack on Friday. It was uncomfortable, and felt like a betrayal to Haley. It hadn’t been that long since her death, but he felt deeply for you. You were always there for him – through the rocky last cases before she walked out, through the divorce, and through the crushing grief of her loss.

When he walks into the office, the sight of your mug next to his – George Washington University Law next to your alma mater’s seal – reminds him of the situation. You’re his direct report. He _can’t_ have feelings for you.

He pours his own coffee that morning. When you arrive to find his mug gone and his office door closed, the irrational disappointment returns.

“What’s on your mind, mama?” Derek steps into the break room and sees your thousand-yard stare.

You plaster a smile on your face. “Nothing.” You press a hand to his shoulder and assure him before he can ask. “I’m alright.”

You aren’t, and he knows it. He sighs and relents, letting you go with a pat to your hand.

+++

When you knock on the door with a sandwich in-hand from JJ’s lunch run, your chest feels close to bursting.

“It’s open,” Hotch says.

You open the door, and step inside, closing it behind you.

His head has been inside reports all day and he’s been in and out of meetings since the early morning. Beyond that, he’s barely left the office.

“Hey Hotchstuff,” you say with a gentle laugh. You pray you can draw a smile from him, but his brows only draw closer together.

He looks up at you, and his brown eyes are hard and belie his exhaustion. “Stop. Just stop.”

You stop short, halfway to the desk. “Hotch…what’s wrong?”

One large hand pulls down his face, landing at his mouth. “I’m incredibly busy. Unless it’s case-related, I simply can’t spare the time today.” His tone is harsher than he wants, and he immediately regrets it when he sees your face fall.

You pull it together quickly. As you take the last three steps to his desk, you toss the wrapped sandwich toward him, turning before you can see it land. Your hand meets the doorknob. Before you open it, the bitterness crawling up your throat leaves your mouth. “Of course, sir.” You swallow the lump in your throat and continue. “I apologize for the interruption, Agent Hotchner. Won’t happen again.”

The door slams behind you. You return to your work with a vengeance, headphones on and blind to the world around you.

JJ and Derek look at each other, then train their gaze on Hotch’s office.

The figure in the window turns away from their watchful eyes, the sandwich untouched on his desk.

+++

The next few cases pass in a blur, marked only by your relentless diligence, professionalism, and adherence to boundaries. You arrive on-time for days in the office, promptly leaving right after five o’clock. In the field, you stay up working until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, and return early in the morning.

Hotch finds himself reaching for coffee that isn’t there after his meetings. JJ has reminded him to eat twice after near-blackouts in the field. For too many days in a row, he realizes only upon his return to the hotel room that he’s failed to eat anything all day. He eyes your packed lunches as you share with Derek and Spencer on the jet and in the bullpen.

+++

Aaron makes it a point to sit across from you on the jet, in the section farthest from the rest of your sleeping team. His side is more of a small sofa than a chair.

The case was difficult, and you couldn’t talk the unsub down before he killed his final victim right in front of you.

“Hey,” he says, searching for your eyes.

“Good evening, sir.” You continue to stare at the case file in your hands, mentally building your after-action report.

He sighs. “Can we talk?”

You finally look up at him, closing the file on your lap. You raise one eyebrow – an invitation to continue.

“I’m sorry for my behavior.” He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands laced loosely in front of him. “It wasn’t fair of me to snap at you a few weeks ago.”

You watch him for a moment, taking stock of his tells. His thumb rubs restlessly against his index finger, and you know he’s not finished talking. _He’s nervous._

“I know you’re always doing your best to look out for me. I didn’t – I wasn’t –“ He huffs, frustrated. “I saw you with Jack that Friday, and it scared me.”

It’s your turn to furrow your brow. “What scared you?”

“You. I didn’t expect to feel so strongly about anyone so soon after Haley, but you were always…there. You’ve been a friend to me when I’m not easy to be around and I ruined it in a moment of frustration. You always know what I need before I need it, and…” He reaches out, leaning across the small aisle to cover your hand with his. “I’ve missed you.”

His admission startles you, just a little. When you blink, you find your eyes stinging and misty. You look at his hand covering your own. Turning your palm, you grasp his hand. “I missed you too.”

He offers you a small smile, then. “And I only hate it a little when you call me Hotchstuff.”

That draws a real smile from you. You release his hand and place the file on the seat next to you. When you settle next to him, you reach for his hand again. “So, what _don’t_ you hate?”

His brown eyes are fixed on your laced fingers. “I don’t mind Hotch, of course, but I think Aaron’s okay when it’s just us, don’t you think?”

You squeeze his hand. “Sounds good.”

“I love you, you know.” He smiles at you, and leans against the window, closing his eyes.

“I love you, too, Aaron.” Your fingers still laced with his, your eyes close.

+++

When you drift back into consciousness, you’re warm and secure and surrounded by a familiar, comforting smell. You come to realize the security is from Aaron’s arms around you, and the smell is from the soft shirt beneath your cheek.

You push yourself up, and Aaron’s arm falls behind you. The rest of the team is still deeply asleep, with a little less than an hour left on the flight. You rise, on a mission.

With two mugs of coffee in one hand and a cookie in the other, you return to your seat. You set the coffee down on the little pull-out table near the window, and place a hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

He starts awake but orients himself quickly. He smiles at you – small and sweet.

“Thought you’d want to wake up a bit before landing.” You offer him the cookie and look pointedly at the matching mugs.

He leans forward, kissing you gently on the cheek. “Thank you.”

You turn your head, leaning into the risk, and press your lips against his. He gasps quietly, surprised, before bringing a hand around to the back of your head. He holds you to him for a moment, and your hand cups his jaw, your thumb running back and forth against his cheekbone. The cookie and it’s little paper plate are forgotten between you for the moment.

When you pull away, his eyes are a little glazed over. You reach past him, intentionally bringing your chest in line with his face, and snag both mugs of coffee. Pressing one of the mugs into his hands and another chaste kiss to his lips, you lean back and settle into your seat.

“Of course, Aaron."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the anon who requested this! Drop me a line on here or on [Tumblr](laughingloki.co.vu). Love you all, and tell me what you think/leave a kudos!
> 
> xo,  
> Tali


End file.
